"I want you to go there with me at once," bustled the banker. "Is your boy—What's his name?"
"Leo, sir."
"Leo. Is he at home?"
"I think he is. Do you wish to see him, sir?"
"I do. Come with me, and be quick!"
"Leo would not be able to serve you, sir; he cannot leave his school."
"I want to see him; my safe has been robbed, and your boy was with the man who did it."
"Leo!" gasped the barber, dropping his hot iron upon the floor, and starting back, as though a bolt of lightning had blasted him.
"Yes; but come along! I tell you I'm in a hurry!" snapped Mr. Checkynshaw.
"He can't go now, pa," interposed the daughter. "He must finish dressing my hair."